


the wound is not deep, but you know it exists (that is enough)

by Nori



Series: In The Next Life We'll Be Good [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Destiny, Angst, Anxiety, Bucky is not okay, Dark, Destiny (video game) - Freeform, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt No Comfort, I'm not entirely sure how to tag this tbh, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, One Shot, POV Bucky Barnes, Suicidal Ideation, this series has a happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nori/pseuds/Nori
Summary: Maybe he’d been in Hell, and this Limbo had been a welcomed change of pace.





	the wound is not deep, but you know it exists (that is enough)

**Author's Note:**

> Title thanks to Bungie's description of the armor _[Khepri's Sting](https://www.bungie.net/en/armory/Detail?type=item&item=1458254034&itemname=Khepri%27s%20Sting)_. As always, a million and one thanks to [SiriusGrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusGrey/profile) for her amazing beta reading, cheerleading, and general friendship skills. <3
> 
> I wanted to give everyone a quick look into Bucky's internal workings in this series. Clearly, things aren't going great for him. This takes place immediately after Bucky leaves the campfire in Chapter 6 of [From Such Darkness We'll Hold Pretty True](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11156742/chapters/25832589).
> 
> If you're uncertain after seeing the tags, there's a quick description of what happens in the end notes.

“You should slow down, Guardian,” his Ghost cautions softly. Bucky doesn’t care. He takes a hold of the arc energy coiled inside him and forces it into his legs, flying faster over the uneven terrain. 

It makes no difference, of course. Distance isn’t going to ease the fuzzy black chokehold of his anxiety. 

“Guardian,” his Ghost pleads. Concern makes her voice thick. “Please.”

Bucky clamps his teeth shut, shakes his head, and continues his blind charge. It’s not his fault - she’s the one who brought him back like this. She’s the one who breathed life into a corpse long dead and dragged his unwilling soul into Purgatory. 

A flash of light burns into his eyes, and he skids to the side sharply. His feet slip on the thin coating of snow, and he goes down hard, rolling. He gets his feet under him but stays low in a crouch, knife ready in his hand. He blinks the white out of his eyes, but the only thing here besides himself is his Ghost. She watches him, managing to convey her disappointment astoundingly well, despite her general lack of facial expression or body language. 

“What the hell was that?” He hisses, adrenaline pounding through his veins and anxiety momentarily pushed aside. 

“Running isn’t going to make this go away,” she tells him plainly. 

“Oh, I know,” Bucky laughs, harsh and uncontrollable. The fear surges up into his throat again, a constant companion to the endless stretch of his future. An eternity extends before him, war and misery until the end of time itself. 

“Talk to me,” his Ghost urges gently. “I’ll help you.”

Bucky laughs, a sound like a rusty hinge being forced open. “You’ll _help_?” Bucky asks, incredulous. “Like the time you brought me back from the dead so I could deal with this nightmare I want nothing to do with?”

“I didn’t force you into this,” his Ghost reiterates, for what must be the millionth time. “Your soul called to me, and I answered.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky grinds through his teeth, but he knows it’s true even as he rails against it. He can feel the truth of it in the marrow of his bones, in the air in his lungs, in the very fabric of his being. 

Maybe he’d been in Hell, and this Limbo had been a welcomed change of pace. 

“Please,” his Ghost murmurs again. Bucky’s anger collapses, like her supplication has pulled free the pin that holds it upright. Despite the resentment he harbors for her, she’s the closest thing he has to a friend here. 

He feels the sting of tears through his nose and against the back of his eyes. Violently, he rips his hood off his head and tears his helmet free, throwing it into the darkness with wild abandon. Swallowing thickly, he presses his fingertips against either side of the bridge of his nose, letting his fingers push against his eyes. The worn smooth leather of his gloves creaks from the pressure.

“Was I always like this?” Bucky whispers, voice tight, almost a whimper. “Or did you bring me back wrong?”

“I didn’t make you,” his Ghost murmurs soothingly. “I called your soul back and gave you the materials you needed to reform yourself.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Bucky chokes, throat tight. The tears he’s been struggling against finally overwhelm him, spilling over his eyelids and down his cheeks. He drives his knuckles into his eyes and scrubs viciously. “Too bad I didn’t make myself less of a fucking crybaby.”

“There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

“What do you know about it,” Bucky scoffs darkly. “You don’t even have eyes.”

“Guardian, please,” she begs, but Bucky refuses to keep going. He clamps his jaw shut and presses against his eyes until he sees a wash of color. 

They stay like that for some time, Bucky crouched in the snow with his fingers pressing into his eyes too hard, trying to keep his ragged breaths even. The Ghost hovers in front of him, sad and silent. It gives him too much time to think -- about the constant fighting and the unending stretch of his life and, of all things to be hung up on, Steve. Steve with his big, clear eyes and his warm smile and his stubborn attempts to befriend Bucky. 

“What a fucking idiot,” Bucky chokes, torn between laughing at himself and giving in to the senseless crying. 

His Ghost makes a questioning sound, a fluttery sort of hum, and he peels a hand from his face to look at her. She looks cowed, points of her shell sagging down and blue lights of her face tipped away from him. Guilt stabs at him and he sighs. It’s not her fault -- she’s only ever done what she was made to do. He’s the one that’s faulty. 

“Steve,” he mutters glumly, by way of explanation. 

“Oh,” she murmurs, disappointed. “I kind of like him.”

“So do I,” Bucky says. “That’s the problem.”

“How is that a problem?” She sounds bewildered. 

“There’s no point,” Bucky snarls, almost under his breath. Rage bubbles up in him -- at himself, at Steve, at the whole damn world he can’t stop living in -- and he snatches up his hand cannon. Frustrated, unhinged, perfectly aware he’ll face no repercussions at all, Bucky presses the barrel against his temple. 

“Bucky,” his Ghost implores, sad but resigned. This isn’t the first time he’s done this. He knows it won’t be the last. 

“I shouldn’t like him,” Bucky hisses, as much to himself as to his Ghost. “I shouldn’t like anyone. I’m not a person, I’m a fucking undead war machine.”

“That’s not true,” his Ghost snaps, indignant. “You’re my Guardian. You’re a savior and a protector. Think of all the people who wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

Bucky’s grip on his hand cannon wavers. “I’m not,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. “Titans are those things. Steve is those things. Not me.”

“You _are_ ,” she says, with firm conviction. “All your fighting -- it’s to protect the innocent.”

Bucky drops his head, feeling raw. There are too many conflicting emotions swirling inside his chest, and none can be easily dealt with. 

“I’m,” he mumbles roughy, “I’m just tired.”

“You should sleep,” his Ghost urges. “I’ll keep watch for you.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. “When have you ever known me to sleep?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” she says weakly. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Bucky nods and deliberately raises the gun to his head again. “Hey, it’s fine,” Bucky huffs, faked humor plastic in his voice. “It’s not like I can really die, right?”

His Ghost makes a miserable sound of agreement and Bucky casts her a quick salute. It won’t take hardly any time at all, but for a few blissful seconds, he’ll be free. Almost smiling, he pulls the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Bucky wants to die but knows he can't. It's implied that he's committed suicide before, and that he'll continue to make the attempt, to no avail.


End file.
